


Your Heart Fits Me Like A Glove

by essouffle, SimoneClouseau



Series: Deeper than Deep [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Restraints, very light D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5863129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essouffle/pseuds/essouffle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimoneClouseau/pseuds/SimoneClouseau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“It’s a slipped hitch,” he says. “If you tug hard, it’ll come free.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I don’t want to be able to slip it. That's the point,” Patrick says, squirming a little on his stomach so he can lift his head to meet Jonny's eyes. “I know you know some fancy knots from all that stupid boating shit you do.”</i>
</p><p>Patrick wants to forget everything for a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Heart Fits Me Like A Glove

**Author's Note:**

> This started when the lovely essouffle said, "that reminds me loosely of something i wanted to draw--one of them w/ their hands bound behind their backs, on top, balancing and fucking themselves down on the other." Before I knew it, I had chatficced a bunch of stuff at her and opened up a google doc. She says all of what happened next is my fault. I beg to differ.
> 
> This is set sometime in the future of [Disease To Please.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5472995)

They try it because Patrick feels out of control, spun out, and he just wants somebody to take the reins. Jonny looks at him with worried dark eyes when he asks, but Patrick holds his gaze, tells him what he wants with a firmly lifted chin. When Jonny doesn’t budge, Patrick strips and lies face down on the bed. He looks over his shoulder at Jonny, pulling his knee up higher, exposing his hole. Patrick’s not coy. He doesn’t tease. He doesn’t need to usually, Jonny so readily gives him what he wants. Jonny looks close to cracking already, high color in his cheeks, hands clenched into fists.

Patrick breathes out and then drops his cheek to the pillow, crossing his wrists behind his back. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be.”

After a moment he hears Jonny’s heavy tread coming closer, the clicking of his abused knees, before he drops down beside Patrick and says, softly, “Alright.”

Jonny uses his own tie—the slither of silk as Jonny unknots it from his neck loud in the quiet room. He winds it carefully around Patrick’s wrists, sliding it tight.

“It’s a slipped hitch,” he says. “If you tug hard, it’ll come free.”

“I don’t want to be able to slip it. That's the point,” Patrick says, squirming a little on his stomach so he can lift his head to meet Jonny's eyes. “I know you know some fancy knots from all that stupid boating shit you do.”

“Peeks…”

“There is nobody on this planet I trust more than you,” Patrick replies. “Tie it again.”

Jonny sighs, but unwinds the length of fabric from around Patrick's hands, before looping it into something much more complicated.

Patrick tests it as soon as he's done and finds himself well and truly stuck, the tie laced high up his forearms.

“Okay,” he says with a swallow, already hardening up against the bed, completely at Jonny’s mercy.

“I'm probably going to have to cut my tie off you when we're done,” Jonny tells him. “So I hope you're happy.”

Patrick doesn't reply. He hears the soft snick and squelch of the lube being opened and poured into Jonny's hand. He rubs it in his palms to warm it up before he touches Patrick, because Jonny thinks about stuff like that, but he pauses for a long moment, making Patrick tense up, his breath tight in his chest, waiting.

At last, Jonny runs slick fingers down between Patrick’s cheeks, circling his opening, dipping in a little, pulling at his rim with the blunt tips. He’s still not used to this and he has to fight against locking his muscles up. Jonny takes it much easier when they do it the other way around. It’s stupid, but Patrick still feels an insistent unsought prick of shame every time he takes Jonny into his body—that he’s weak, a silly fag—wanting another man’s cock the way he does. Ordinarily Jonny’s careful with him. It’s never been said out loud, but it’s just another one of those things where Jonny instinctively intuited what he needed.

This time Jonny sinks in two fingers, working lube into him quick and deft, making Patrick grunt at the sudden intrusion. There were certain things Patrick thought about a lot in the years he’d desperately futilely wanted Jonny—the sweet curl of his smile, the generous curve of the ass that begged to have a cock buried in it, the exquisite sweep of his dark lashes against his cheek—the stuff he’d told himself everybody noticed about Jonny. There are other things he thinks about when Jonny’s not with him now—the breadth of his shoulders, the sexlines that inevitably draw Patrick’s eyes down to his pretty cock, and the strength in the long fingers so talented at taking him apart. He imagines what Jonny’s fingers look like now flexing in and out of him, thick knuckles catching at his rim. Jonny presses down on his prostate and Patrick jerks, involuntarily trying to tug his wrists apart. The comfortable security of the tie seems to clamp down around his wrists.

“I wouldn’t,” Jonny says, still pressing maddeningly on his prostate. “It’s only going to get tighter the more you struggle against it.”

Patrick nearly laughs. Of course he’s tied some kind of constrictor knot. If ever there was a phrase to describe Jonny it was ‘go big or go home.’ But if Jonny is the way he is, Patrick is predictably the way he is. He tests the tie’s hold and is immediately rewarded with the knot pulling even tighter. He can’t help the soft whimper that escapes his mouth.

Jonny leans down and says against his ear, “I warned you.”

Patrick shivers full body and Jonny chuckles slightly. He draws his lubed-up fingers free of Patrick’s hold and strokes them down Patrick’s back.

“You want me to fuck you face down on the bed? So defenseless you can't even use your arms to hold you up?”

Patrick gets his knees under him, ass up in the air, by way of reply.

“Ah, too bad,” Jonny says. “That’s not what I want.”

He gets off the bed, moving around the room somewhere Patrick can’t see. His belt clinks softly when his pants hit the ground and Patrick bets that Jonny is undoing his cuffs right now. Patrick waits, vulnerable and exposed, shifting under the prickle of Jonny’s eyes on his skin. He wonders at what Jonny’s planning, has the sudden fear that Jonny’s just going to leave him here, hard and sick with wanting.

Jonny doesn’t though. He slides onto the bed and carefully levers Patrick into a kneeling position. Patrick blinks at him as he settles himself against the headboard, naked, his own cock stiff between his legs.

“C’mon, baby,” Jonny says. “You’re gonna ride me.”

Patrick dips his eyes, skin flushing hot all over. He’d expected to close his eyes, let Jonny take him while Patrick allowed himself to disappear. This—face to face with Jonny, fucking himself on Jonny’s dick—is an entirely different beast. When he meets Jonny’s eyes, he can see that Jonny knows it. Patrick lets out a breath, forcing himself not to tug at his bonds. Jonny tips his head back against the headboard, loosely fisting his cock, the pink wet head peeking between his fingers, waiting for Patrick to come to a decision. If Patrick told Jonny to cut the knot right now and fuck him on his belly like Patrick wanted, he would. But the entire point of asking Jonny to do this was giving up control.

Patrick swallows hard before carefully knee-walking across the bed and slinging his leg over Jonny’s thighs to hover over him, astride. It takes him an embarrassing moment to get himself lined up, Jonny holding his dick up for him so that he can force himself down. Patrick gasps, harsh and abrupt, as Jonny’s cock stretches him open, thighs protesting as they work to keep him from taking Jonny too deep. He rises up and down on it, working a little more of his cock inside with every downward push. His own dick bobs as he moves, pre-come drizzling embarrassingly off the head onto Jonny’s belly.

The shame at having Jonny’s cock inside him hasn’t gone away. He still burns hot and terrified at the thought of others knowing what they do sometimes behind closed doors. He can’t escape that. But every time they do this he’s reminded why he doesn’t care, why he wants Jonny’s cock.

Jonny is quiet, but his teeth have sunk into his lower lip and his eyes have gone half-lidded and heavy. If Patrick’s hands were free, he’d be kissing him, clinging to his shoulders to hold Jonny close and reaching up to mess up his hair. If Patrick tried to kiss him now, balanced in this precarious position, Patrick thinks he’d overbalance right onto him. Jonny makes up for it though, rough palms sliding over Patrick’s flanks, before drawing him down with a hand at the back of his neck, kissing him deep and wet and slow.

Patrick tightens his ab muscles to hold himself upright and Jonny slides a finger down the divot between his six pack, lingering low on his belly, just above the rise and swell of his own cock. Patrick finds himself unconsciously moving faster on Jonny’s cock, until he’s bouncing on it, held up by Jonny’s hands, the tie tight enough now on Patrick’s wrists that it edges discomfort. His breaths come hard, heavy exhales he can’t control, but he can’t get the angle quite right.

He doesn’t even realize he’s whining until Jonny gets his hands on Patrick’s thighs, holding him up as he raises his hips, cock striking his prostate on an upward thrust, and sparks shoot across his eyes. Patrick chokes, bent at the waist, holding himself stable as Jonny shoves into him. This—this is what he wanted—all he has to do is take it. Another thrust and Patrick dips down, forehead dropping onto Jonny’s shoulder, unable to hold himself up anymore. As Jonny drives up into him he sinks his teeth into Jonny’s shoulder, holding back all the embarrassing cries he wants to make.

“Keep holding yourself up,” Jonny tells him, drawing his hands up to lift up Patrick’s chin. Pausing, he holds Patrick’s gaze, dark eyes placid even despite the sex flush staining his cheeks. There’s a sweet ache in Patrick’s chest that threatens to overwhelm him completely when Jonny cups his jaw, thumbs smoothing across his cheekbones. He doesn’t know what Jonny sees on his face, but he stills his hips for a moment, dragging Patrick into a kiss, pressing their foreheads together briefly when he pulls away.

Jonny leaves Patrick like that, stuck on his dick, as he plucks at his nipples, rubbing at them until they ache. He moves on after a while, fingers edging around Patrick’s hole, pressing along his rim where he’s stretched taut around his cock. Patrick sucks in a breath, spine tingling. He wonders if Jonny’s planning on easing that finger in alongside his dick. He’s stuffed so full of Jonny already, but he thinks he could take more.

Jonny doesn’t though. He snaps his hips up, hard and unexpected, getting Patrick good. He shouts, caught unaware. All of the muscles in his legs and core have pulled tight, keeping himself solid so he doesn’t pitch right over. His thighs have started to burn, strained from holding himself raised at this awkward slant, not a true kneeling position. Angled the way he is, Jonny is hitting his prostate on every thrust, and each time he does Patrick wants to sink down onto his lap like all his strings have been cut. He’s panting hard, shoulders sore from remaining restrained for so long, dick jutting out angry and hard between them. Patrick trembles, sinking his teeth into his lip. When he closes his eyes the backs of his eyelids are lit up red and somehow Jonny’s still so calm. Patrick’s nearly in tears from how good Jonny’s dick feels, from how much he wants it, and from the frisson of shame at his own desperation.

Jonny reaches around, hooking his fingers into the tie. Patrick doesn’t know what he means to do until he’s tugging, pulling him right down onto his cock. With that last stroke inside, Jonny’s cock thick and forced deep in him, Patrick can’t stave it off any longer. He comes with his head bowed low between his shoulders, unable to quite meet Jonny’s eyes. It’s strong enough that some of his come hits his own face, but mostly it shines white on Jonny’s darker skin, marking up his chest and abs with pulses of milky pale fluid.

“J—Jonny,” he says, voice cracking. There are words hovering at the back of his throat—things he’s too embarrassed to say—‘Thank you’ and ‘You’re perfect’ and ‘I need you.’ He settles for just getting one breath out after the other, spent and exhausted.

And then he remembers Jonny hasn’t come yet. He’s sitting still again, but the fingers of his left hand are tight on Patrick’s thigh, digging in, and he can’t quite hide the tremors going through him, straining to hold back. Patrick raises himself up and clumsily shifts back, bending to get his mouth on Jonny’s cock, at last able to look up and meet Jonny’s eyes as his lips slide down over the head. Jonny curses, tensing up everywhere.

“Oh fuck, Peeks,” he says, dropping his hand to card through Patrick’s hair. He sounds just as broken and bowled over as Patrick feels. His chest, still all smeared up with Patrick’s come, heaves as Patrick greedily sucks at him. His hips twitch, like he’s fighting not to thrust himself into Patrick’s mouth. Patrick doesn’t have free hands to hold him down. It’d be okay though, for Jonny to fuck his face. He thinks he wants that. Mouth full, Patrick does his best to communicate that with his eyes.

Jonny takes a moment to get it, but when he does, he pumps his hips up into Patrick’s mouth, sliding back over Patrick’s tongue until he’s breaching Patrick’s throat, so overcome he looks like he’s dying. Patrick struggles to breathe through his nose, managing not to gag around Jonny’s cock through sheer force of will. When Jonny comes, it’s with Patrick’s nose brushing the tender vulnerable skin just above his dick, his hand heavy on the back of Patrick’s head. It seems to go on forever, until Patrick’s twisting, trying not to choke. Just when it moves into too much Jonny lifts his hand so Patrick can pull off, coughing. He drops his head to Jonny’s thigh, so wrung out he can barely move. Jonny pushes a curl back behind his ear, fingertips soft in his hair, and Patrick allows himself to just drift for a little while. Eventually though his aching shoulders reassert themselves into his conscience and he groans.

“Want me to cut you free?” Jonny asks.

“Yes,” Patrick rasps out, voice made scratchy by Jonny’s cock.

“You’re gonna have to let me up,” Jonny replies, voice warm and amused.

Patrick groans again and rolls himself off Jonny’s thigh so that Jonny can pad naked out of the room in search of scissors. He comes back only a few moments later, sitting back down besides Patrick on the bed and carefully cutting through his tie.

“Shit, I liked this one,” he says, slicing the silk.

“Nobody told you to use your tie,” Patrick replies with a laugh.

Jonny snorts. “I mean, I was just assuming here, but I didn’t think you’d want me to use grocery twine.”

Patrick kicks at him and Jonny smacks him across the ass in retaliation.

“Quit it,” he says. “Unless you want me to gouge you with the scissors.”

Patrick breathes out when he can move his arms again, feeling like a weight has lifted off his shoulders as soon as his hands came free. Jonny smiles at him, pressing in for a quick kiss and to stroke a calming hand down his back, before he gets up and leaves, giving Patrick space. Noises come from the kitchen, Jonny clattering around fixing himself a snack probably. Jonny’s always hungry after sex and will sometimes crawl into bed after letting Patrick fuck him silly with a sandwich in hand.

Patrick snuggles deeper into the mattress. He’s sticky and gross, in a moment he’ll have to get up and take a shower, but for now he luxuriates on Jonny’s sheets—their sheets—feeling firmly tethered to the earth again for the first time in days.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
